


Control

by Merfilly



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Dominance, M/M, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 14:59:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Superman and Batman entered a power struggle almost from the beginning, one laced with desire and plots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on Livejournal in 2006, this is a heavily edited (for grammar) version. Also, when it began as a series of drabbles, I did not have a specific continuity in mind, but as it evolved, I came to see it as being set against the Justice Lord dimension, before they lose Wally.

The first time it had happened, Superman had been breathless from his own reaction. Batman had been in danger, and Superman, reacting without thought, had pressed the armored human to a wall, shielding him from the blast with his own body. He had not expected the feel of those hard angles and rounded…. 

Firmly, Superman calls his mind to order for roaming over the physique even now. It did not matter that he had found plenty of excuses since, to either shelter or pin Batman in such a manner as to receive full body contact.

He wonders what it was about Batman that pushed that particular reaction. He could feel the Nomex under or against him, and it always sends his blood surging, wrecking his breathing, and tearing up all pretenses of concentration. Superman wants to express it to Batman, when they are not fighting for their lives, but every time he gets his nerve up, Batman is never available.

Then there is the inherent dishonesty of it all, in Superman's mind. He does not even know who Batman is, having respected the man's privacy. Nor has he shared his own alter ego with the Dark Knight. Superman can not consider a relationship, not even one built strictly on desire, with a man he does not truly know.

Finding the tables turned, and Batman pinning him after throwing him far from the glare of Kryptonite makes his reaction doubly damning. If anything, he is harder than any other time, having Batman over him, pressing him down as the Kryptonite influence slowly passes, letting Superman regain his full strength.

When Batman is off of him, going to remove the offensive Kryptonite, and Superman cannot help but wonder… has the World's Greatest Detective noticed?

`~`~`~`~`

Batman feels the pressure of a stronger than steel body against his own. He has felt it before, feels it almost every mission he goes on with the Boy Scout. It's not that he is reckless, or so he tells himself. Perhaps he does tend to volunteer to escort Superman to the more dangerous missions, ones that might have been better suited to a hero not made of frail human sinew and tissue.

But then he would have to miss those contacts. He would not be able to steal that furtive pleasure of knowing, for an instant, that he is all Superman can think about. It's twisted, a subtle power play in his own mind, but it's there and undeniably growing into an addiction for Batman.

The feel of those ironwood muscles under flimsy spandex is a treat, but it's that reaction south of the border that Batman is looking for. Knowing, that in the heat of battle, Superman is hard for him is a feeling he enjoys.

And, maybe, one day, he may even take pity on Big Blue.

`~`~`~`~`

He is so close right now, listening for all the details that a person does not say, yet betray them most. Superman feels distracted by a slight wrinkle in the cape; it's not falling quite right, and he longs to reach out and straighten it. He's unsure just when the battle reactions led to this constant awareness. All he can do is admit to himself that he is strongly attracted to the man.

Batman moves back, and Superman becomes aware he has gotten far too close, because the armored body is pressed tightly to him. Batman turns just slightly, looking at him with annoyance. Bashfully, Superman backs up, and the Dark Knight turns fully, leaning in close to Superman's ear. The Boy Scout can barely make out the words, completely lost as the breath of Batman's words caress his ear.

He does puzzle out just what Batman wants him to do in regards to their mission, but even as he does, he wishes he could just lose himself in the darkness that is his desire.

`~`~`~`~`

Big Blue never even thinks about the fact the way Batman knows his abilities, inside and out. Over their association as the World's Finest, Batman has made use of those countless skills. And yet the Boy Scout does not question why Batman leans in to speak to him, instead of relying on the super hearing. A sly smile touches the Dark Knight's lips; he can taste the arousal he brings out in his prey.

Batman, master of perceptions, expert manipulator of mass hysteria, is at the top of his game when he works with the alien savior. He has looked over every angle of the attraction, seeing it as a way to curb a dangerous ally. So long as the Boy in Blue wants Batman, there is a leash. The obligation of a master to a pet never enters his mind when he views it that way. After all, the Dark Knight would never admit to such a non-essential thing as desire.

`~`~`~`~`

Superman feels agony in every bit of his body as he holds Batman up. He has his back braced against the wall, and is facing… the Dark Knight's crotch. If there truly were a hell or eternal damnation, this would be one of its tortures. To be so close to what he truly wants to feel and taste, and not be able to do a damn thing about it is maddening. When Batman finishes adjusting the sensors, he gives a small signal and Superman gives into one tiny little urge, an innocent enough one. In the name of keeping the silence they are working under, he slides Batman down slowly, reveling in the feel of that armored body against him.

He knows, even as he knows his calling in life, it will not be much longer before he has to have what he has denied himself this far.

`~`~`~`~`

Only a tool to use, Batman tells himself. Keep the Boy Scout hooked on his lust, make him loyal through whatever means necessary. It is not as if Batman has become a bit more diligent in discovering all he can about his ally. Not that he has managed to narrow down the possible hiding places for Metropolis's son to a news rag. No, he would be this diligent on learning any potential threat.

So why does he ache now, having felt the sharp rush adrenaline and testosterone when Superman slides him down so slowly?

`~`~`~`~`

Steel can bend, but only so far. Sometimes, reminders of that have to be given. And the time has come for a firm reminder where the Dark Knight is concerned. For far too long, he has put up with the teases, the subtle shiftings in flight, and most of all, the looks. Blue eyes hve smoldered in his direction one time too many.

He tkes the Dark Knight by surprise, pressing the cowled human tight against a wall, claiming his mouth with firm passion. His hands grip the man by the shoulders of his cape, keeping control of the kiss and the contact. He wants no space between them, as he tastes the forbidden fruit at last.

`~`~`~`~`

Batman knows several routes of escape. They flip silently through his mind, super strength notwithstanding. He decides it is not worth it; that it is easier to foster the control he has gained by going with it. He meets barely checked passion with a questing tongue of his own, running his hands over the Boy in Blue's snugly clad hips. It is all just a matter of control, of being the one in charge.

He keeps that thought in mind even as Superman flies him away, hands already probing for where the armor comes apart.

`~`~`~`~`

The armor is a minor inconvenience, but Superman finds all the releases finally, only leaving the cowl in place to protect his identity. He's brought the man to his Fortress, but barely makes it inside before he has his eyes on the bare skin of Batman. The human is breathing harshly, neither fighting him nor aiding his conquest of the armor, but Superman hardly cares. Once he sees the scars mapping out a life lived hard, he brings his intensity into check, kneeling before the man to languorously trace the scars with his lips and tongue, tasting the flesh with intentions of going much further. Batman's hands move to the Man of Steel's hair, gripping it firmly but not to push him away.

When Superman's mouth moves to the hollow of Batman's hip, he gets a verbal reaction at last. The low, rumbling groan of want is music to his ears, and makes his blood flow that much quicker.

`~`~`~`~`

Batman catches himself even as his eyes close with the pleasure he feels the moment that hot mouth closes around him intimately. He can feel the cool wall at his back, the strong hands gently holding his hips, and most of all, that mouth. He can almost lose himself in it, but that would not do at all. No one, not for any reason, makes the Bat lose himself or his mission.

His eyes narrow; he can not deny the need to carry this through, but it will be on his terms. His grip in that too soft hair tightened, as he snaps his hips forward, taking control of the rhythm in this intimate connection. Superman reacts swiftly, accommodating Batman's need to control the pace, but adding the caresses of his fingertips over the small of the back, and lower. It is enough to make Batman realize that the control factor in this illicit affair is not firmly in his court, and he will have to correct that.

`~`~`~`~`

They make it, somehow, from the entrance of the Fortress to the large bed in his room. His Lover's Kiss has drawn Batman to the brink, but stops just shy, to whisk him here. In that short space of time, he sees the calculating mind begin to work again, and he wonders how the die will turn this time. Nor is he left to wonder long, as Batman rises to a kneeling position on the bed, stripped of all but his cowl. His bare skin is a map of life at the receiving end of psychotic rogues, and Superman wants to taste every scar all over again, to remake the lines into a canvas of pleasure.

Batman's low growl comes as a surprise on one level. He knows the human is a man of few words, but this primal atavism intrigues Superman, making his own skin tingle. He knows what Batman wants, knows he wants to keep his dominance by forcing the Kryptonian to continue the Kiss, to finish his desires first. Superman does not think that should be the way at all, as he moves away long enough to remove the bright costume and cape. Batman waits, patiently, his eyes feasting on the perfect skin, the firm muscles, and the proof of desire. It is just what the Kryptonian needs, to know he has the man's full attention, before he moves close and starts touching again. He brings a small bottle of oil with him, and Batman almost smiles.

`~`~`~`~`

Batman learned patience in the game of sex years ago. He wants nothing more than to draw Superman down, to be moving in and out of that skilled mouth until he comes with mind-blanking intensity. He tries to betray none of that, intrigued by just how the Boy Scout will attempt to get the control fully back. When the bottle of oil comes into play, Batman is amused. He reaches out, catching Superman's wrist and taking the bottle in one smooth move. He then pours a bit into his hand, his eyes watching the almost nervous swallow the alien makes. Using a controlled rhythm, he reaches down and takes hold of Superman. The Kryptonian groans in need as Batman expertly works him to the same point of aching need he left Batman at.

When Superman reaches out to return the favor, a steel-like hand stops him, as Batman smiles almost cruelly. His grip tightens, the rhythm increases, as he forces Superman just a little closer to the brink. His own need is in check now; and he's not about to surrender control.

`~`~`~`~`

Bruce Wayne, millionaire playboy by day, and angst-ridden crime fighter by night, never cares much for surprises in his civilian life. It detracts too much from his mission, the one intended to free Gotham from the grip of madness and crime, to rid her streets and offices of corruption. So, having a man walk into his Metropolis office on the pretext of an interview, and then realize he's seen the man behind the glasses too many times, is nothing he enjoys. Especially as the last time they had crossed paths, they had wound up fucking each other hard in a fortress in the icy Arctic.

The door closes behind the reporter, and Bruce Wayne indicates he should sit. He wonders if the man has learned his identity, or if this truly is a follow up on his proposed deal with LuthorCorp. He keeps his speech mannerisms in CEO mode, the voice pitch just right to be an elitist snob with too much money, playing boss of one of Fortune 500's top companies. He fields the questions left and right, answering with textbook answers tweaked to fit his standing as head of Wayne Industries. It is something he can do in his sleep, well coached by Lucius Fox. What involves his mind, is trying to decide if the man he has spent so many hours with, the man he has teamed up with to save the world, has any idea as to who he is actually dealing with.

`~`~`~`~`

Clark Kent can tell his subject is not fully concentrating on the interview. It is too rote, even where anecdotes are thrown in. He cannot blame Bruce Wayne; his own mind is not on the interview. Instead, he is memorizing the face of this amazing chameleon, the man that almost fooled him.

He had not known when he arrived that his interview assignment was the same man he had slept with over the last weekend. He was doing a favor to Lois, who had not wanted to write a business fluff piece, even if it did tie into potential dirt on Luthor. Even when he walked into the office, Bruce Wayne's voice and mannerisms had evaded any suspicion.

Then Clark had seen the eyes. There was no way possible any man on the planet could have those same blue eyes that haunted his feverish dreams. And Clark had peeked, deeper, fine-tuning his senses to see the scars, the bone breaks, all the little things that he knew intimately about his lover and crime-fighting partner. Now he knew who stood behind the cowl.

Somehow, he thought that would be upsetting to Batman, and their game of control would grow all the more intense.

`~`~`~`~`

 

The next mission requires assistance, and they get the help of the Scarlet Speedster. Neither of them risks revealing their knowledge around Flash, nor do they truly let it show in their demeanor to one another. Superman finds pleasure in visualizing the Dark Knight once more in the business suit, while Batman decides that the ‘S' persona is far more suitable than the bumpkin-turned-reporter.

Only when Flash streaks back to Central City do they take a moment to linger. Blue eyes meet their mirrors, each with hidden knowledge. Batman knows he cannot stay too long; his city calls too strongly to him.

Then Superman claims his mouth, fierce and hard, and for once, the cry of Gotham falls to a whisper. The hot passion against his body is hungry for more illicit pleasure, making his own burn. When the kiss breaks, Batman tries to appear angry, reserved, but the desire shines in his eyes.

"Should I make an appointment with your receptionist?" Superman asks, testing the waters, and Batman's eyes narrow..

"Don't bother." With a quick turn, the shadowy figure vanishes, leaving both aching with lust, and the Boy Scout hurting from the rebuff.

`~`~`~`~`

"Sorry, Clark; I have a date to the awards," Lois tells him over the phone.

"A date?" That gives the reporter pause, as he thought they were ‘together'.

"Hey, neither one of us said this thing was exclusive," she points out, and he can hear her as she bends to pull her stockings on. Her words bring him a flush of guilt, as he remembers the taste and feel of his illicit lover in the Fortress.

"But we always do the awards together, Lois." He knows he sounds petulant, but it is very late in the game to find a new escort to the function.

"So I had a better offer." She sounds annoyed with him now. "Go chat up Cat Grant. Or you can always get your pal Jimmy into drag," she tells him with sarcastic sharpness. He winces at her tone. "I'm not telling a multibillionaire ‘no' to soothe your ego or ease the fact you might have to go alone."

"Multibillionaire?" Clark's breath catches in his chest.

"Oh yeah. I should have taken that fluff piece, Smallville. Bruce Wayne is a man of many facets," she says, completely unaware of just how cutting she is being to her occasional lover and partner.

"Oh." It's all he could manage as he mumbles his regards, and sinks to the floor. In pushing Batman, has he lost all chance with the man?

`~`~`~`~`

Clark does not have to attend the awards alone. He runs into Vicki Vale on his way in and they strike up a quick conversation that leads to mutual accompaniment. The redhead is experienced at draping, he decides, as she acts like they had long ago planned to go together.

Seeing Lois on the arm of another man really would not have kicked him in the balls so hard, if it were not for which man she is with. Bruce is laying on the charm, keeping the normally unflappable Lois hanging on his every word. Clark watches this with a jealous eye, wishing he could fully sort all of what he is feeling.

Vicki notes the way he keeps looking over at the other couple. As they are clapping politely for one of the various winners, she leans over and whispers in his ear.

"Kent, I'd look elsewhere, if I were you," she murmurs. "Wayne has some dark secrets. He's bad news." Vicki's voice throbs with tragic knowledge. It makes him look back over at his girlfriend with the billionaire. The fact Bruce is looking directly at him, right then, makes him shiver in his soul.

Vicki just sighs softly, and he can tell she knows he is doomed.

`~`~`~`~`

Batman feels the tension rolling off of his partner. In the three weeks since he had upped the ante in their private war of sexual tension, the Boy Scout had said nothing, nor appeared anywhere, in either guise, where he would have to deal with the Dark Knight. Only a call that Parasite and Clayface were acting in conjunction with one another had brought them together. 

As soon as they finish cuffing Parasite with the negation bands, Superman moves to leave. The only problem lies in the fact that Batman’s plane is down, so he needs a way back to Gotham. Superman, being who he is, will not leave him there to find his way back.

Silence has ruled their night, with a minimum of words passing for mission purposes alone. As they rise above the clouds, Superman has a hundred and one things he wants to demand, yell, or say.

They all vanish in the space of three long heartbeats.

The first is as Batman finds Superman’s lips, claiming them brutally.

The second is as Superman groans into the kiss, instantly hard and hating himself for playing into Batman’s games.

The third is when Batman bites his lip, hard.

Then it's all about landing in the Cave, hands tangling in costumes in their haste to get rid of them. 

`~`~`~`~`

The contact of skin on skin is everything Superman wants, knowing that he can have this prize among humanity as his lover. He presses the feverish kiss Batman begins, while steadily caressing the planes and angles of the man's flesh. His hand cups the strong backside of his lover as they stand there, tongues dueling while their erections are trapped between them, almost pulsing with the heat of their mutual lust.

Batman's first attempt to take control is a very deliberate string of bites down Superman's throat, over the pulse points. Superman moans, instinctively baring his throat to more. The hungry bites and teasing kisses trail over the shoulder, and Batman would have taken them around to the line of his back, but his lover takes a firm grip of his wrist.

"No." Blue eyes met their colder twins, and Superman's lips curl in a smile that could be termed ‘evil'. With that one word, Superman draws the other man back into a searing kiss, one hand on the back of his head as the other folds around his partner's erection. He does not slide his hand or much of anything beyond gripping him and letting him know who is in charge.

`~`~`~`~`

Batman's mind tumbles over the hidden meaning in his lover's eyes. He knows the alien is very angry over the awards presentation a few weeks prior, but he had been certain he had read the next step correctly. He had thought if he took the lead in their dance of passion, he could keep Superman firmly wedded to justice, while having him close enough to prevent from going rogue. Instead, he finds himself fighting a losing battle with the needs he feels, all summed up by the merciless grip on his cock.

He can't breathe, so caught up in the savage kiss the Boy Scout initiates this time. When the hand on the back of his head curls, gripping his short hair, it breaks a moan from him. Then, the hand gripping his erection moves again, and Batman can breathe again when the kiss breaks. Superman measures the look on Batman's face carefully, seeing the aching needat war with the restraint, so he holds back.

"I want you," Superman says, stating what is obvious to the Dark Knight. "And you want me." The blunt honesty shatters something within Batman's careful plans.

`~`~`~`~`

Batman's pulsing desire wars with his need to deny Superman's blunt statement, before the alien's lips curl into a knowing smile. The Dark Knight cannot rebuke the man for presuming to speak his mind in that way, in his own domain at that; Superman does not allow him to speak at all. This time the kiss is savage, stealing both his voice and his very air as both hands come up to grip Batman's short hair fiercely. Intellect has no place in the primal desire that begins overriding all of Batman's cautions and boundaries. The feeling of Superman's nude body pressing him back until they hit a cave wall, hard, just keeps up the pressure to makes him lose control.

The kiss breaks for air, and Superman's eyes pulse between red and blue, showing the intensity of his desire more potently than the iron hard erection trapped between them. Batman feeels his body shudder, even as he grasps at the tattered edges of both his mind and his self-control. It is a losing fight as Superman places one hand on the human's neck, caressingly pressing him to kneel. Batman does not even resist, as that firm pressure promises him something he has never had.

It promises him that someone else would take the control, and this time, it is completely right.

`~`~`~`~`

Superman's low moan of desire is raw, pulling at the more primal reaches of his lover's soul. This intimate Kiss, the feel of a tongue flicking across the delicate underside of his cock is but the beginning, he swears. Now that Batman has capitulated to intimacy, Superman can be in control of his needs, hold them back long enough to fuse the Dark Knight's passion to his own.

The hands that have bent steel and torn apart concrete tenderly caress the soft, slightly swept-dampened hair. When that elicits a pleased whimper, Superman has to smile, and then close his eyes from the tiny vibrations traveling through his nerves. The Dark Knight slowly moves to where he has only the head of the shaft in his mouth, his tongue exploring the tip with teasing tastes and flicks. A warning growl is the answer to that treatment, before Superman presses his hips forward just a small fraction. The message is clear; he does not want to be teased.

Batman's head is clearing of the initial hormonal surge, but his body is fully caught within it. He does want the alien more than he had ever intended. Here, in his domain, with the soft sounds of the computers and the bats trilling in the deeps, he can relax, let himself have this moment. His lover feels a change, as the choice is made, and the sucking grows more intense, hungrier than even their first kisses. Hands that had held onto Superman's hips for balance now play over firm cheeks, thighs… always caressing, kneading. The strength of that flesh seems to give Batman even more comfort, more reason to go on.

"Ahh, yes," Superman groans, fighting the urge to thrust as he is swallowed, pulled deeply until he knows the pressure is nearly too much. His fingers scratch gently at the scalp of his kneeling lover in warning, but the man continues, setting a rhythm with his tongue and throat that would not be refused. Blue/red eyes close tightly against the intensity of the white heat pouring through him, his head falling back. He is barely aware of his hands slipping to the other man's shoulders, holding them and trying hard not to squeeze too tightly as the release hit.

Batman feels the first surge, pulling back enough to keep from choking as the Man of Steel shudders through his climax. That fierce strength, still caged, in those hands on his shoulders make him moan almost as much as the sheer act of taking down the seed of his lover. He feels the right knee of his lover shake, then buckle as the release rolls into a series of aftershocks, and Batman guides him down to the floor, reluctantly releasing the trembling cock from his mouth.

They are kneeling now, chest to chest, and Superman slumps his head forward on Batman's shoulder. The Dark Knight smells so good, his body just barely sweaty, and the scent of his armor still on him. Without a thought to it, he flicks his tongue out, delving into the hollow of his lover's collarbone. The full body shift and press that follows tell him that Batman had a few weaknesses, most of which revolve around full touch. He is beginning to wonder just what it is that had cut Batman off from humanity, when he feels the still full erection between them. His smile precedes moving his lips to Batman's ear.

"You want me, Bruce?" He curls his voice around the name, his breath passing just over the sensitive earlobe. When the other man shudders almost violently, Superman brings his hand down between them to knead and grip gently.

"Now," the Dark Knight commands/pleads.

"Not here," Superman tells him, patient firmness in his voice. "Not yet." He traces the outer rim of the ear with his tongue, eliciting a rumbling moan and another attempt to press closer. The raw ache in the Dark Knight is more than lust for release; there is a need for escape that communicates itself.

"Bed. Far wall." Batman's eyes are almost closed as he tries to contain his desire long enough for his lover's wishes. The Man of Steel has them there in the next moment, pressing Batman down into the mattress. His lips are almost cool against the fevered skin he begins kissing, working his way from throat to nipple, further down in a trail that ends on the sharp hip bone of his lover. Every kiss draws out a moan, or a shiver of need, until Superman takes pity and licks the very tip of the straining cock.

"Tell me what you want," Superman rumbles, his voice deep with wanton pleasure at finally having Batman out of control. "Do you want me to suck you off? To let you come in my mouth, like I did yours?" He pauses, and runs a tongue down the underside of the shaft, making the other man writhe. "Or, would you rather have me, knowing there is no way you can truly hurt me? To let go of every inhibition for just tonight, and let it all come out as you thrust within me?"

Hearing the Big Boy Scout talk so graphically, to know that both suggestions are possible, is keeping the Dark Knight off balance. He wants both things, knows he can have both, if he lets the night go long. The nagging need to follow his mission rears its head, but he is trapped now. If he does not take one path or the other, he will be in no shape to effectively patrol. The logic flashes through his mind in a heartbeat; the primal man merely groans and thrusts his hips up before he grasps his lover's hair in tight fists, pulling him back up.

"Mine, now," Batman grinds out, his teeth unwittingly clenching as he presses tight to Superman's body. Superman responds by taking his wrists, pushing them back over his head, and pinning him once more.

"Tell me what you want," the Kryptonian growls, low in his throat, before roughly nipping the sharp collarbone. Batman groans, thrusting up to slide his cock against the pinning flesh. Superman presses down more firmly. "I'm not giving you anything until you answer me, Bruce," he rumbles next to the other's ear. He does caress Bruce's throat, long fingers trailing over vulnerable pulse points. "All it takes is to give in, and you have what you want," the upper male whispers, moving his thigh against the other man's cock for emphasis.

"I want you; I want to fuck you," Batman tells him, his voice full of his aching need. He lunges one more time, using his skill to slip up enough to claim the other's mouth. A dueling of tongues emerges, but slowly Superman allows them to roll over, and groans into the kiss when Batman settles between his legs. The suppressed growl from the lustful Bat brings a smile to his lover's lips, which turns to a small kiss over the Dark Knight's nipple when the man reaches up over him, into a small alcove set in the wall.

Deftly skilled hands soon have the problem vexing Batman tended to, before he again moves against the Kryptonian insistently.

"Don't hold back," Superman goads, running his hands down his lover's back, his nails lightly grazing the sensitive flesh around the scars he finds there. His breath catches when Batman presses in, pushed beyond the ability to hold back. "Yes, perfect, Bruce…." he moans.

"Clark." The harsh, ragged gasp of the name is almost music to its owner's ears. He draws Bruce down into him and claims his mouth, this time with almost tender care. It is an abrupt contrast to the almost feral rhythm they find, as Bruce pushes through the self-control he keeps on himself.

"You can't hurt me, but I can help you," the alien tells him in a most seductive voice, one hand on his hip, one on the back of his neck.

"Shut-up," Bruce growls, biting the impervious skin with savage need, his body almost too taut to find release.

"No," Clark defies, lacing his fingers behind Bruce's head and bringing it down for a savage kiss. The raw passion shared is just the added pressure Bruce needs, thrusting one final, frantic time before all he knows is infinite bliss in fiery color behind his eyes. Through every spasm, every lingering shudder, Clark holds him, his lips close to Bruce's ear. "Always here for you, my Dark Knight," he whispers.


End file.
